


Snapshots

by mysterycyclone



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 05 Spoilers, Season/Series 06 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterycyclone/pseuds/mysterycyclone
Summary: A look into the lives of Jody Marsh and Tom de Luca.Spoilers for all of Season 5 on up through S6M5.





	Snapshots

Jody Marsh has never particularly considered herself brave, though she can pretend to be for a short time. She’s not a coward, either. She’d never abandon a fellow runner if things got bad, for example. She’d just...maybe scream in panic the entire time she helps them and then go curl up to stress knit a few scarves afterward. That’s all. The one time she mentioned this to Five, her friend had tilted her head and then signed, “What do you think I’m doing inside my head whenever something goes horribly wrong?”

That had made her feel better, at least.

God, she really missed Five. And Janine. Bloody hell did she miss Janine. Maybe if Janine had been at Abel, Jody wouldn’t currently be stuck inside a storage shed at the edge of the township with nothing to sleep on aside from flat dirt floor with a bit of hay spread across it, doing her best to ignore the sharp pain in her stomach from a lack of food. The Minister had made some token attempt at recruiting her when she first arrived, but when it became apparent that Jody wouldn’t switch sides, Sigrid had the runner unceremoniously dragged off to be locked up.

Jody hasn’t heard from anyone in four days. The guards occasionally bring by water or check to make sure she’s not up to anything troublesome, and then duck back out. They all ignore her.

The enormity of it all finally hits her that night. She starts to shake, her breath hitching in her throat, and suddenly the shed that was comfortably large enough to hold half a dozen people seems far too small and closed in. Knowing that she can’t get up and go outside is only making things worse, and she whimpers low in her throat, pressing a fist against her mouth.

“Ms. Marsh?” At first, Jody doesn’t recognize his voice. She’s too busy trying not to shake apart. “It’s...it's Tom. Tom de Luca? Janine’s brother?”

Great. Tom’s gotten loose. She can’t bring herself to respond to him yet. When she tries to talk, the only thing that comes out is a strangled whimper. A rather pathetic one, too.

“You’re having a bad moment, aren’t you?” She can hear him shuffle closer to the small hole in the bottom left corner of her cell. It’s large enough for her to stick her arm through, but there’s nothing in reach back there. His tone is gentle, understanding. “Is there anything I can do? I’m afraid I don’t have my lockpicks on hand, or I’d come in to help…”

“Talk.” She hasn’t realized how much she had missed hearing a familiar voice until just now. And sure, he did sort of blow up her friend and tried to steal her other friend’s baby, but she’s not exactly spoiled for choice here. “Please. I just need to hear someone. I don’t want to be alone.”

The silence on the other side of the wall is nothing short of stunned. Eventually, he starts to talk to her. Quietly, hesitantly. Having someone sit and listen, _really_ listen seems to be new for him. He starts to ramble a bit, first about his time at Oxford, a few of his old missions with Janine, and his favorite books (Victorian era literature, mostly).

He talks, and she listens. He slips his hand inside her cell through the hole in the bottom of it, and she reaches down to squeeze it. His hands are covered in scars, callused and rough, but warm. It’s an anchor, and one she clings to as her breathing starts to slow.

He goes quiet for a moment when she manages to calm herself (well, not really--the panic is still there, but it isn’t overwhelming anymore). “When was the last time you ate?”

“Maybe a little before everyone left? It’s been awhile.” Starvation isn’t new to her, but it’s still not a pleasant experience. Sigrid’s probably trying to starve her down. Or just kill her through neglect, as if Jody isn’t important enough to warrant an execution.

“Right.” Tom squeezes her hand. “I’ll see to that tomorrow, Ms. Marsh. Stay strong. I’ll be back soon.”

He lets go of her hand and then awkwardly pulls it back through the little hole in her cell. The hole is awkwardly placed; his arm likely fell asleep while she was holding it.

Well, at least she has something to look forward to now.

 

* * *

 

Tom keeps his word, and shows up at her cell the next night wearing a stolen uniform and holding out a small bowl of food for her. She wants to talk to him, to thank him, but the moment the smell hits her, she can think of nothing else than to eat.

The food is nothing compared to the meals she enjoyed not even a week ago, but she’s so hungry that she bolts it down almost the moment he hands her the bowl. She barely even tastes it, and licks the bowl for any remnants of the soup or stew she had just eaten. Not exactly dignified, sitting in the dirt and sucking stale stew off the side of a cheap bowl, but dignity went out the window three days ago.

Tom shrugs off his stolen jacket and drops it across her shoulders. It's warm, and a welcome comfort after being left out in the cold for so long. He settles down on the ground beside her and she leans against his shoulder, grateful for his presence.

They stay like that for a few moments, and then she whispers, “This is risky, Tom. You can't keep doing this.”

“You need your strength, Ms. Marsh,” he replies, as if that made his risk taking tolerable, “Jane will be back soon.”

“Steve said he killed her.” _And Sam. And Maxine. And Five. The bastard._

Tom chuckles. “Do you really think someone like Steve Sissay is capable of killing my sister?”

Jody goes quiet, thinking. Logically, she knows that it’s perfectly possible. All Steve needs to do is wire up enough explosive traps or simply catch her off guard from afar with a sniper rifle to do the deed. It's not like Janine can stop a bullet fired from half a mile away. Anyone can kill anyone; no one is invincible.

But a larger part of her, the part that relies on instinct and intuition, the one she used to work through escape routes while on runs, isn’t convinced. Some deeper, primal part of her doesn’t quite believe it. Not yet.

“No,” She says, leaning her head on his shoulder, “Or, at least, I don’t think he’d have come back from it without missing a few limbs. Especially if Five was nearby.”

“Exactly.” Tom nods, holding his shoulder still for her. If he’s surprised by the sudden contact, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t pull away, at least. “She’s either faked her death to fool him or she’s turned him against the Minister.”

Jody snorts, “My vote’s on him being that bloody stupid, personally.”

Tom makes a small, humming noise of agreement, seemingly satisfied. It's nice to hear. She’s actually looked forward to his nightly reports, even if she's trapped in a shed and can't do anything with the information he brings her. And, frankly, seeing a friendly face isn't bad either. Neither of them are the picture of health; Ian’s been starving down most of the township, and prisoners get much less than the civilians. She and Tom have both lost considerable weight. He looks worse than she does, really; his stolen uniform hangs loosely around his shoulders, dark circles ring his eyes, and there's an air of exhaustion around him.

This is far too much for what they are to each other, but Jody can’t find it in herself to care. It's been so long since she's heard a friendly voice, let alone seen a friendly face, that she’s going to take what she can get. Even if that friendly face is her friend’s psychotic brother.

Between the food and the warmth from the jacket and his presence, Jody falls asleep.

She wakes sometime later (it's impossible to tell from inside the shed at night). Tom has an arm around her shoulders and he’s speaking to her in a soft voice.

“Ms. Marsh?” Tom says quietly. He sounds apologetic. “I should go. They’re going to start the prisoner inspections soon.”

She sighs, sitting up, thankful that the dark can hide her expression. “Right. Um, here.”

He moves away from her, drawing his arm back and awkwardly clearing his throat. She pulls off the jacket from her shoulders and hands it back to him. He takes it, rolling it up and tucking it under one arm before grabbing the empty bowl at her feet.

“I’ll be back when I can, Ms. Marsh. Stay strong.” She can’t see the smile on his face, but she can hear it in his voice.

“Be careful, Tom.”

He gives her one last little wave, oddly shy, and then ducks out of the door. She sighs again, leaning her head back against the wall behind her.

At least she had a decent nap. Tom is a better pillow than the rough dirt floor.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t come again for four more days. When he does, he shuffles in with a limp, balancing another small bowl against his chest. He’s holding the other one oddly, as if it’s been sprained or hurt.

Jody freezes at the sight of him. There’s no real light inside her cell, but the shed has enough gaps in the floor and walls that the sunset outside can provide a sort of dim, red ambiance. It's enough to see by, at any rate.

He looks _horrible._ Dark stripes of blue and purple bruises cover his hands and face, and there’s a long cut down the length of his left cheekbone. It's still bleeding, though he has a handkerchief pressed against it.

“Tom,” She breathes, moving around the offered bowl of stew. She takes the handkerchief from him and starts to gently dab at his cheek, “God, what happened?”

He blinks at her in open shock, cringing back away from her as if afraid to be struck before he realizes what she's doing. That’s almost enough to break her heart all over again. Tom hadn’t reacted towards her like that since that first week. Whoever hurt him had undone quite a bit of hard work getting him to trust other people now.

“Ah, Mr. Golightly didn't take kindly to a few of my comments this morning during our talk.” He leans into her palm fully, and she cups his cheek through the handkerchief. “No permanent damage, Ms. Marsh. I can still give you my reports.”

Jody frowns, cleaning the blood off of his face. She had never liked Ian Golightly, and he was rapidly reaching the top of her list of people the world would be better off without. “What on earth was he talking with you about?”

“He’s desperate to reach the labs beneath Abel, to impress the Minister.” His voice has gone soft, “He’s getting frustrated. He said he'd start questioning others soon, starting with you. I managed to convince him that I'm the one who knows how to get inside. That should keep his attention on me for the time being.”

“You’re letting him torture you to protect me?” Jody loses her appetite at the thought and nearly drops the handkerchief. She can't believe what she's hearing. What is wrong with him? “Tom, you--you can't do that! It's not worth it. I can handle it.”

“Jane’s going to make her move soon. She’ll need you in good health,” Tom counters, frowning back at her. “And, quite frankly, he’s not very sophisticated in his methods. He’s more eager to hurt than get information.”

Jody scoffs. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’ve gone through enough.”

Tom doesn’t have a response for that. She finishes cleaning the wound on his cheek, staying close to him. He starts to relax around her again. She shares her food with him before sending him back early. The guards are more active tonight, and she’s afraid of what will happen if they catch him outside his cell.

That night, her nightmares are of his face, bruised and broken.

She doesn't sleep much.

* * *

 

Tom was right. Janine and the others _are_ alive. And after he saves her, Jody is determined to repay the favor.

She keeps holds of his hand, pulling him along behind her during their escape. He’s still hesitant, but once he realizes she’s not letting go and will drag him off into the night if necessary, he picks up his pace. He lets out a slightly manic giggle, not unlike a few she’s heard before, right when he’s about to drop into a panic attack. Five immediately drops back, putting herself between Tom and Paula. She glances over her shoulder at him, holding her pilfered weapon tightly in her left hand. Tom cuts his giggle off sharply, tensing.

Jody shoots Five a sharp look, shaking her head slightly. Five blinks, tilts her head in silent acknowledgement, and then lowers her weapon again before putting a bit more distance between them.

Tom clears his throat. Jody glances over her shoulder at him. He looks excited, nervous. She knows he doesn’t handle changes to his routine well, no matter how horrible the routine is. He’s going to need her help tonight.

He catches her eye, then beams at her, and it's amazing what a genuine happy smile does to his face. Years of hardship melt away, replaced with a boyish grin that she can’t help but match.

“Told you so.” He murmurs to her.

She grins at him, tearing up, and playfully nudges him. They grin like idiots the whole way to Janine’s camper van. She knows she’s going to have to help him, and quite likely act as a sort of advocate for him. Janine didn’t seem happy to have him along, after all.

Well, she can just deal. Tom had saved her life. He’d let himself get _tortured_ on her behalf, a fact that both humbles and horrifies her in equal measure. She owes it to him to stand up for him when he’s not able, and to help where she can.

 

* * *

 

Of all the things to put her down for the count, she wasn’t expecting the flu to be it. Jody shivers under a thin blanket on her cot inside Noah, feeling cold and clammy. Her head is fuzzy with fever and pounding from a headache, and moving at all takes far too much effort. She hadn’t felt this sick and miserable since that first week the world ended. At least she won't be forced into isolation and boarded up inside her room at Noah. That had happened at her flat until it became obvious she wasn’t a carrier for the plague. It had made for a truly miserable first week of the apocalypse, dragging herself around her flat, trying to hoard enough water to live off of before the pipes burst or were shut off. She had been too weak to feed herself for the first couple of days, and was reeling from fever and grief until the fifth day when she was strong enough to push through the barricades and confront her fellow survivors

She never did care much for her neighbors after that.

That said, the only good thing about being sick at Noah is that she’s not sick at Abel. At least here she has Maxine nearby and she’s not out in the cold, sleeping on a dirt floor in a drafty shack. The bunks in Noah are stiff and scarcely softer than the hard cement floors that line the base, but it's better than actually sleeping on those floors, and Peter and Five were able to find a enough sleeping bags and blankets for everyone. Maxine, Paula, and Sam got the lion's share of whatever warm clothes they could find; no one wants to see Baby Sara get sick off of one of her parents.

Speaking of Maxine, she should probably go find her. If only for medicine to take the edge off of this bloody sore throat. Except the effort involved in getting up from her bed seems impossible, and the thought of walking through the cold halls of Noah is even less appealing. She’s already freezing under her sleeping bag and blanket, shivering despite the cold sweat that covers her.

Jody shifts, turns over on her side facing the door to her small room, weighing her options. The fluorescent light above her bunk flickers and hums, filling the room with a sterile buzz that would normally drive her mad. Right now, it's just filling her head with static, making it hard to think. Or that could just be the fever.

She really should get up. It wouldn’t even take that long to stagger down towards the infirmary. And if she happened to stumble and fall in the middle of the hallway, someone would help that much faster. Efficiency. 

Jody sits up, pulling the blankets down, then shivers and lays back down, yanking them up to her chin. Okay, first try wasn’t successful. She’ll have to try again.

Later. After a nap, maybe. Jody sighs and buries herself deeper under the blankets, closing her eyes.

A gentle tapping on her door stirs her out of a restless doze sometime later, and she groans against her slightly damp pillow. She should be polite and open the door for her visitor, whoever they may be.

Screw that. She’s finally warm, and there aren't even any locks on the bedroom doors in this place. They can open the doors themselves. 

“Come in.” Her voice comes out thick and rough, and speaking sends shooting pains down her burning throat. She barely recognizes her own voice. Ugh.

The door opens with a long, slow creak from rusted hinges and she winces at the noise. Tom pokes his head inside, and frowns. “Jody? You missed dinner last night, and I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning--oh.”

He takes in her appearance with sudden alarm, moving over to her side in an instant. He kneels down next to her cot, reaching in to brush some of her hair out of her face. His hand is cool and dry, and she has to fight the urge to press into his palm.

“Are you alright?” He breathes, worry etched into every line in his face. He hasn’t been sleeping well again; Noah has been a blessing for all of them, but big changes in his environment always make Tom nervous. The fact that Noah’s sterile halls and steel doors looked and felt like a prison likely didn't help his anxiety.

She doesn’t want him to worry, so she gives him a soft smile. “‘m fine, Tom. Just tired.”

Her reassurance doesn’t work in the slightest. Possibly because she sounds like a drunk toad when she tries to talk.

He frowns, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re running a fever, Jody.”

“Yeah. Started last night,” She mumbles, relaxing at his touch. “I thought going to bed early would help…”

He hums to himself, gently cupping her cheek. “Dr. Myers is sick as well. So is Jane. And Sam, I think. It seems to be something going around.” He sighs. “Janine wants the healthy ones to leave and stay out of the base until the illness passes. I was coming to find you to let you know, but it looks like you’ve fallen victim to it yourself.”

“Great. Just what we all need on top of everything else,” She mutters, burying herself further into the blankets. He gives her a small smile, helping her adjust the blanket so it covers her shoulders before pressing his hand against her cheek. She finds it much more difficult to continue her train of thought. “At least we’re not all sleeping on top of each other in the camper van again. That got old really fast.”

Tom gives her an amused look, trailing his thumb along her cheek. “I missed that particular bonding experience, fortunately.”

Janine had kept him handcuffed to a tree separate from the others for most of their brief stay in the woods. Jody had spent more than one night near him, when he could bear the company. Mostly because she wanted to be close to him in case he needed help, but partially because she kept waking up with Five or Sam’s leg or arm in her face and she needed the space. Good lord, she knew Five slept like a big jumble of limbs, but she hadn’t known Sam did as well! Those two really were made for each other.

“Count yourself lucky. Five and Sam sleep like spiders.” Jody says, blinking up at him owlishly. Her eyelids suddenly feel heavy, and it’s a strain to keep them open. God, is she really getting worn out from  _ talking? _ This is beyond ridiculous. What if Janine needs her?

“I think I will,” Tom says gently, “For now, I think you should rest. I’ll stay close until Dr. Myers can come see you.”

His hand is still resting on her cheek, and she knows she should shoo him off before she gets him sick, but she’s so tired. She sighs, and he tucks the blankets up around her. She finds herself watching him, and in the middle of her feverish contemplation, realizes how gentle his hands are.

He settles in beside her bed. “Go to sleep, Jody. I’ll be here, as long as you need.”

 

* * *

 

She finds him hiding under her bunk at Noah one evening. After a brief, minor heart attack, she realizes who it is, and then carefully kneels and peers under the bunk.

“Tom? What's wrong?” She keeps her tone gentle and reassuring. Sometimes it’s enough to take him out of whatever flashback has snuck up on him, sometimes it isn’t. She’s seen him duck and hide before throughout the base, but this is the first time he’s done it in her room.

Tom’s curled up on his side, hugging his knees, eyes wide and staring blankly. He blinks when she speaks to him, his eyes focusing on her before taking in his surroundings. He winces, looking ashamed and embarrassed.

“Ah, I...er. Had a moment.” He says quietly, avoiding her eyes. “I’m better now. I can leave in a few minutes--”

“What happened?” Jody shifts, crossing her legs and sitting down on the cold floor. God, he must be freezing; the floors are hard cement inside Noah, and the ambient temperature always hovers somewhere between barely tolerable and cold.

He’s quiet for a long moment, and then sighs. “Peter slammed his door shut and it sounded like the one down the hall from my cell in Algeria. I heard him coming down the hall behind me and panicked. I just needed to go somewhere safe, and your room was closer than the panic room--”

The more she hears about Algeria, the more she wishes she could pay a visit to the bastards that tormented him. She leans down beneath the bunk, careful to leave some distance between them so she isn’t crowding him, and stretches her hand out towards him. He hesitates, then slowly takes her hand, clinging to it. His hand is cold and clammy.

“Stay as long as you want, Tom.” She says, squeezing his hand gently, echoing what he told her not so long ago in Abel. “Until you’re comfortable. I’ll be right here. As long as you need.”

He clings to her hand, clasping it between both of his tightly. He leans in and presses his forehead down against their joined hands. “Talk to me? Sometimes that helps. Hearing your voice.”

So she does. She keeps her voice low and soothing, and talks to him. About anything and everything. The difference between knitting and crocheting, the difficulty of analyzing unknown markets in finance, where she was when the world ended and how Abel’s runners saved her. Her archery competition medals.

She talks, and he listens, slowly relaxing. He doesn’t let go of her hand.

They both fall asleep under her bunk that night.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, she corners Janine.

Well, less ‘corners’ and more nervously knocks on her door and ducks inside. Semantics.

Janine is at her desk, frowning over a map. Baby Sara is cradled against her shoulder, one tiny hand curled around the loose cloth of her shirt sleeve, and the other comfortably poking a finger inside her ear. Janine is handling it with as much dignity as she can muster.

The image is so ridiculous that Jody’s thrown off guard for a moment.

Janine sighs, glancing up from the map. She gently tugs Sara’s finger out of her ear, holding her hand instead. “Yes, Ms. Marsh?”

“I...er.” Jody rallies herself. She can do this. She can. “I wanted to talk to you about Tom.”

That gets Janine’s attention. She tilts her head and regards her runner. “Go on.”

“You need to…” Jody sighs. “You need to stop threatening to shoot him.”

Janine blinks.

“I know it’s some sort of weird reassurance thing between you--which is mildly concerning, by the way!--but you can’t keep doing that to him in front of the others. I mean, he’s isolated enough as it is, locked up in that panic room every night.” She shuffles a bit now, keenly aware of the sharp look she’s getting from Janine. She presses on. “How is anyone supposed to trust him if you keep doing that? And don’t tell me you don’t trust him. He’s doing better now, and you almost never take the safety off of your gun near him these days.”

“You noticed that, did you?” Janine asks, leaning forward a bit. Sara sees her opportunity and takes it, reaching up to grip a handful of Janine’s hair. It doesn’t seem to distract Janine much, but Jody is another matter entirely.

“Well. Yeah.” She frowns back at Janine. “Tom showed me. I, ah, got a little upset the last time you threatened him with it. His way of comforting me, I suppose.”

“I see,” Janine gets a thoughtful look on her face. “Very well, Ms. Marsh. Your concerns are noted, and you bring up a good point. I didn’t consider how the rest of the base would see those interactions. I’ll be much more discerning the next time I remind him of it.”

Okay, so that wasn’t _exactly_ what she was going for, but Jody will take what she can get. “Right. ...Thanks, Janine.”

“Of course, Ms. Marsh. Will you do me a favor and go find Mr. Yao? I rather think Sara’s losing interest in the nap she was taking earlier.”

 

* * *

 

They did it! They pulled it off. Abel Township is now back in safe hands, and the Ministry soldiers are being rounded up into cells.

Jody has so much to do that it isn’t even funny. She’s rapidly coming to the conclusion that taking Abel back is just the _start_ to her work, not the conclusion of it. Weariness settles on her tenfold when she sees what administrative tasks are set out for her, and she decides to go check on her team before settling in. She’s not ready to go into the farmhouse yet. Cleaning up whatever mess Ian left behind wasn’t appealing in the least.

She finds Tom on one of the small hills that overlook the township. He’s frowning down at the prison boxes that Kytan and Cameo are currently demolishing, looking puzzled and hesitant.

“What’s on your mind, Tom?” She asks, slipping her hand into his.

“The fallout from this could go so many different ways. I used to be able to read scenarios like this in my sleep. ...I wish you could have met the man I was before I was broken. You need those skills. Especially now,” He says, squeezing her hand. “It’s like I can see him, sometimes. Pretend to be him. I’ll never be that man again, I don’t think. But I can mimic him sometimes. I hope that will be enough.”

“I’m something of a fan of the man you are now, Tom,” She smiles up at him, and then continues, speaking with far more confidence than she feels. “We’ll figure this out together, alright? We’ve got this.”

He smiles back, intertwining their fingers. In the distance, Runner Five and Sam run Maxine’s maternity dress up the flagpole to signify their victory.

Jody looks over the township. There was a lot of work to do, but she’s confident she can handle it. Janine will be back soon. Probably only a couple of weeks at most.

Right! She can handle a few weeks of leadership. She’s a finance analyst, not a military leader, but she can play pretend for a bit.

 

* * *

 

Banking, as it turns out, has quite a bit in common with war. Jody had been very good at reading subtle cues and watching markets act and react to one another, and maneuvering through them for the best possible outcome had become second nature to her. These days, her markets are significantly more hostile, and the rules they adhere to are far more complex and fluid than she’s initially prepared for.

Still, she’s managed ably enough, due in no small part to having a team of seasoned veterans to help run the township while she scrambles around playing the part of a military commander. Having a literal library of information at her disposal helped as well; Janine had contingency plans set up in the event of her death or disappearance.

And there was Tom. Jody looks up from the pile of books and folders she’s surrounded herself with on the couch.

He’s asleep in one of the recliners placed near the fireplace, one of the township cats sprawled across his lap, also asleep. He looks so much better these days. A steady diet has filled his form out, and he’s slowly regaining the muscle tone he lost during his captivity. The dark bags under his eyes have receded, and he no longer looks so worn and frightened. There’s a steady confidence to him these days that helps ground her, makes her think she can actually pull this off.

The cat in his lap blinks up at her, and then yawns long and slow before settling his head on top of Tom’s hand. That had been a surprise. It turns out Tom adores cats, and this cat in particular seemed attached to him. Jody’s seen the cat around town before; Simon and Five had rescued him from a zombie horde during a supply run a few years ago (had it only been a few years?) and Simon had taken care of the little guy. She still sees Peter carry the cat around sometimes. Tom spoils the cat, sneaking him treats or letting him rest on his shoulder while he works around the house. Jody has a feeling Janine won't be too happy about finding her home covered in cat hair when she comes back, but she’s not going to put a stop to it.

Jody looks back at her reading, tries to focus, and then gives up completely. It's late, she’s tired, and she needs information from Amelia (ugh) before she can finalize any plans anyway. Which is another problem altogether; they can’t keep relying on Amelia. She’s chained to them out of necessity right now, but she’ll turn on them the moment she can.

She shuts the binder and sets it aside, standing up to stretch and wincing when her back and neck crack.

“Mm? Jody?” Tom murmurs sleepily, stirring. The cat in his lap gives a grumpy “mrrt!” noise when he shifts, then huffs before jumping down from his lap and sauntering off to the kitchen.

Jody can’t help but smile at him. “I’m here, sweetie. Think it's time I went to bed. You coming?”

Tom yawns, nodding to her while he stands up and stretches. His movements are a lot smoother than hers, almost catlike. She reaches out to take his hand, squeezing it briefly before leading them upstairs to one of the guest rooms. The thought of sleeping in Janine’s bed with Tom is simply too weird for her to contemplate, so she’s staked a claim on one of the nicer guest rooms instead.

Plus, who knows what kind of traps Janine probably built into her bedroom. The thought of being blown sky high in the middle of the night because she didn’t step in a particular order across the floor isn’t an appealing one.

They change in silence, and Jody turns on the small solar powered lamp in the corner. Tom hates the dark, this lamp never manages to make more than a dim glow, so it works perfectly as a sort of impromptu nightlight. He smiles at her, laying down on his side, facing away from her. She lays down on her side, her back facing him.

As is tradition, the moment she lays down, her brain decides to start connecting the pieces of the puzzle she’d been working on earlier.

The Laundry. The babies. She needed more information, and a way to coordinate with the few and disparate allies they’ve managed to gain. Losing access to Worthington-on-Sea is a much deeper blow than the others realize. A thought occurs to her, and Jody almost gets back up to go into Janine’s office. The bed shifts behind her, causing her to pause. An arm snakes around her waist, and warm lips press against the back of her neck. Tom curls himself up around her, nuzzling her sleepily before sighing into her neck. Jody melts back against him, covering his hand with her own and threading her fingers through his. He gives a gentle squeeze, murmuring something against her neck, and drifts back to sleep.

Jody listens to his slow and easy breathing, relaxing. She brushes her thumb along his and feels the anxiety start to drain away. It's amazing what a simple kiss from him can do for her.

Well. Maybe she can wait to research that idea until morning. Tom might have a few ideas of his own contribute.


End file.
